


Small mercies

by Elisexyz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Injury, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Ward lets out a sound that seems close to a scoff. “You areworried,” he says, and the bastard isgrinning. Jemma wants to smack him.





	Small mercies

**Author's Note:**

> Another Tumblr prompt! [15: “Don’t die on me– Please.” + Biospecialist](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/170880292169/hi-since-i-totally-love-grant-ward-and-miss-him). Set in an AU in which Jemma and Ward have both been sucked in by the Monolith and there's no Will. ~~Sorry, Will, I like you but you would have gotten in the way here~~.

“Almost there,” she says, breathlessly. She can see the entrance to their refuge, but her lungs are on fire, her legs are screaming in pain and she swears that her spinal cord is about to break because of the pressure.

Hell, he is supposed to be _malnourished_ , they are stranded on a desert planet for god’s sake, _how_ can he weight that much?

Ward grunts something unintelligible in response, probably just to let her know that he’s still conscious – which she _wouldn’t_ have bet on, basing only on how much he’s leaning on her.

Jemma’s eyes keep flickering back, but with Ward’s arm around her neck she can’t really turn around and check if they are being followed. She guesses that if they were, they’d already be dead.

“Here, we made it,” she announces, allowing herself a small smile of relief. Bending over and opening up the entrance to their refuge with Ward still tangled around her is a challenge, but her knees miraculously don’t give out – it’s adrenaline, she reasons, there’ll be hell to pay as soon as it wears off – and she’s left looking for a way to get both of them in.

Her eyes fall on all the blood that they’ve left behind: she just hopes that with all that wind and sand it’ll be covered up soon. She’s not sure if that thing _can_ follow them there to begin with, but still. Hopefully it will take it some time to recover from a gunshot to the face either way.

“I’ll go first,” she finally says. “So I can help you.”

Ward nods, taking a sharp breath as she carefully slides from under his arm and helps him sit down instead. Pale and sweaty face, unfocused eyes. Great, just _great_.

He almost falls down the small ladder when he tries to get in, but he manages to keep his grip solid and she puts all her weight into compensating, so eventually they manage. She briefly contemplates just making him lay there, but the beds are better, and whatever she can use to give him some rudimental medical treatment is in their living space as well, it wouldn’t make much sense to run back and forth – she’s not even sure that she _can_ , considering how exhausting it was to hurry back there.

To his credit, Ward doesn’t even complain when she tells him to keep going just a bit more, even if he lets out a subtle sigh of relief as soon as Jemma dumps him on his bed.

“Alright,” she breathes, nervously moving her hair away from her face. She glances at her bed, wishing for a second that she could just lay there too. “Let me see,” she orders instead, gently tapping Ward’s hand with he finger to get him to move it from his wound. He complies, and it’s— a mess.

She swallows before moving a step to grab the knife he keeps next to his bed and cut away as much of his clothes as she can, even if some of it by now got attached to the wound. Fantastic. She grabs the first t-shirt she can lay her eyes on and she starts pressing mercilessly: he’s been bleeding for what seem like ages, first priority is preventing him from losing too much blood.

His lips are still a decent colour, that’s a good sign. Small mercies and all that.

Ward lets out a sound that seems close to a scoff. “You are _worried_ ,” he says, and the bastard is _grinning_. Jemma wants to smack him.

“What makes you think it’s the right time to tease me?” she snaps, glaring at him.

Ward’s grin doesn’t fade, but it softens considerably. “Sorry. I’m just flattered.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you are the _only_ other human being on this planet,” she points out. Never mind that there has been a time when she would have called him a _monster_ , nothing close to human. “It’s in my best interest that you are well.”

“Still flattered,” he states, with a vaguely knowing look. He’s arrogant enough to be convinced that there is something _personal_ behind the fact that she’s fighting to keep him alive. Which is not the case. Growing accustomed to his company was a necessity, it was survival instinct and adaptability at its finest, and if they were still on Earth she wouldn’t be hesitating before killing him herself, without having that thing do the dirty work for her.

But they’re not on Earth and she doesn’t want to think about spending eternity alone on a strange planet. It’s easier to hope when not everything sucks – the fact that Grant Ward fits in the ‘doesn’t suck’ category is laughable, really.

“Just— just don’t die on me,” she finally sighs, her voice quivering a bit as she eyes the blood that started soaking the t-shirt. Shit.

There’s just another piece of clothing nearby that she can press on top of the other, she hopes that she won’t need another one or she’ll have to leave him to fend for himself, even if just for a few moments.

“I’ve survived worse,” he assures. She’d really prefer it if the cocky asshole would just stop laughing in the face of death. Or running headfirst into danger, for that matter.

“We should have made a run for it,” she accuses. It’s probably not the right time to _lecture_ him, but she can see that he’s getting tired and her arms are awfully sore as well, maybe the heat of an argument is what they both need. And she won’t let him die without giving him an earful on how _stupid_ he was.

“It was close,” he protests. “And it attacked us.”

“We could have _run_.”

“Fight or flight, both natural.”

She snorts at the irony of him using science against her. “You were still stupidly reckless.”

He stares at her for a couple of seconds before closing his eyes with a small smile. “Like old times,” he comments.

Normally, she’d tense up and shut him down at the mention of the days when he was running a long con on them. Now, it doesn’t seem like the right time and she finds that playing along feels better than reasoning with what she’ll do if he actually leaves her alone. “I hope you managed to lose the annoying habit of pulling all your stitches out,” she comments.

“I just needed an excuse to see the pretty doctor,” he grins.

Something in her stomach flutters, like she’s back on the Bus, with her ridiculous crush and the foolish conviction that almost dying of an alien disease would be the worst thing to ever happen to her.

“If you wanted a date, you should have asked,” she says, without thinking. “All your lack of self-preservation did was getting you yelled at.”

“It was cute, you worrying,” he replies. “But alright— want a date?”

Jemma can’t help letting out a disbelieving chuckle, because the conversation is getting more surreal as the seconds go by. But he’s half-dead and literally the last man on the planet, not to mention that she’d probably promise her first-born right now if it could help keeping him grounded and chasing away the horror of being left alone.

“Alright,” she says. “How about we hang out by the monster plant lake?”

He grins at that, she doesn’t know if it’s because of her choice of avenue or because she accepted in the first place. Likely both.

“Sounds good,” he replies. “I’ll look for flowers.”

Jemma allows herself a slight smile at the thought of what he could come up with to create something resembling a bouquet just by using the scarce vegetation on this planet. “I know you will,” she says, quietly, trying to chase away a million thoughts on how she really doesn’t have enough resources to deal with this, just the First Aid kit in the other side of the room. She’s not even _that_ kind of doctor, for god’s sake.

The bleeding has stopped, at least, and Ward is still miraculously awake. That’s something.

 


End file.
